


Heart And Hope

by Watch_Out_For_Bears



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Content, Infidelity, complicated relationship, to be clear there was never a rape it's only assumed that there was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watch_Out_For_Bears/pseuds/Watch_Out_For_Bears
Summary: Trying again isn't easy with so many secrets between them. Persephone confronts Hades about his betrayal, but the story's more complicated than just snake and songbird.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Hadestown), minor Persephone/Eurydice
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Heart And Hope

**Author's Note:**

> TW for discussion of rape (see the tags).

Persephone had dealt with a lot of things in her life. Not well. But endlessly. Years upon years of cutting remarks and insincere apologies, of insults swallowed down with a bit of liquor to burn away the feeling, had shaped her into a goddess with sharp nails and sharper words. Nothing fazed her for long. Time was slippery at best. She was perfectly fine. Especially now that Hades seemed to be making an effort to treat her right.

As Persephone wandered the empty halls of Hades’ mansion - ostensibly her mansion as well - she found herself heading outside, where glowing streetlamps cast silvery light onto the damp pavement, and the distant River Styx, not so well-maintained as it used to be, was hidden by mist. The night air was not as sweltering as it once had been, but still enough that the warmth seemed to fold around her skin; if she closed her eyes, she could almost picture someone holding her. As it was, she was on her own.

Persephone walked down the marble steps and out the gate, which was tall and made of iron but no longer bolted shut as had once been typical. Hades was out late, presumably at his office, and she headed there now, guided towards her husband’s haunt by some need she couldn’t name. It had been a long time since she walked through Hadestown sober. The place didn’t seem as harsh as it once did. Shades, on their way to the barracks after their shifts, waved or nodded and called out to ask if the speakeasy would be opening up again soon.

Persephone pretended not to hear their queries. Thinking about the speakeasy made her think about drinking, which made her throat feel dry, which made her desperately want something to calm the nerves that were only growing as she neared Hades’ administration building. She quickened her pace.

Through the heavy iron door of the office building, down a dimly lit hall, up a flight of gloomy stairs, and Hades’ office door was already open. Persephone took a deep breath, stepped inside, and froze.

Hades was sitting at his desk, papers stacked neatly before him like always, thick files filling every inch of the shelves behind him. Gray light slanted through the window blinds, creating the illusion of bars on the opposite wall - a fact that once amused, then exasperated her and now seemed completely unimportant.

Because in the seat across from Hades was a girl with dark eyes and stiff shoulders, a girl who had a calculating mind and a gaze that seemed to have been sharpened to a point by many years of hardship. A young girl. A young girl who had become more entangled in the affairs of the gods than she ever should have.

The songbird.

Anger rose in Persephone’s chest like some living, hating thing. “What’s  _ she  _ doing here?” she said, voice coming out shriller than she had intended.

“Persephone,” Hades said, standing, as Eurydice stiffened in her chair. “It’s just -”

“Just a meeting ‘tween you and your mistress?” Persephone snarled, heart pounding in her ears. Each beat triggered a new, all-consuming feeling - loathing, heartbreak, rage, grief - and the loss of whatever naive, childlike hope she’d managed to cultivate and cling to during her months up top. Each moment became a funeral for any last vestige of innocence she’d kept for herself. She’d tried. She’d tried so hard, and what did Hades do?

When Hades had claimed he would find a new woman to love, Persephone had scoffed. “As if anyone else could stand to be with you,” she’d said to his retreating back. She’d been certain, despite his many wrongs, that Hades was only trying to get a rise out of her, that he wouldn’t defile their marriage in such an irrevocable way. He was too devoted to her to look for an alternative, anyways - wasn’t that the point of all his so-called progress? To keep her with him year-round? And if he did do it, if he did decide to throw it all away, well, she figured at least he wouldn’t be her problem anymore. It was for the best, probably, that they pull the plug on this train wreck of a marriage. But when Persephone saw the songbird go into Hades’ office - when she saw the gleam in Hades’ eyes as he shut the door behind them - she felt something within her shatter, the glass shards of her once-whole, once-loving heart shredding her spirit like knife to paper. That betrayal had cut deeper than Persephone had wanted to acknowledge, scabbed over into something fragile, and now been torn open again.

“Eurydice, go,” Hades said, in that quiet yet unquiet voice. Once listening to him talk had made her feel safe. Now it made her feel sick to her stomach.

Eurydice nodded, glancing anxiously between the two gods before heading to the door. Before she could leave, Persephone caught the girl’s wrist and squeezed it tight, successfully bringing her to a stop. “Not so fast,” she growled in her ear, knowing the girl did not deserve her anger but unable to stop herself.

The young woman wrenched her arm away, deceptively strong for her small frame. “What did I do?”

“Eurydice, go!” Hades commanded, the words ringing through the room, and with one more bewildered look Eurydice departed, leaving Hades and Persephone to square off.

“I can explain -” Hades began, but Persephone would have none of his explaining, none of his rumbled pleas, none of his gentle manipulation.

“You took this girl,” she said, in a shaking voice, as the weight of what had transpired fell on her for the thousandth time. “You took her from a husband she loved and you did it to break me and _ just when I thought that I could forgive you _ -”

“That’s not what happened -”

“How many times? What are you giving her?  _ Is she allowed to say no? _ ”

“ _ Let me answer _ \- ”

“Eurydice was finally happy and she was just learning to live and  _ you _ , you bastard, I don’t care that you fucked someone who wasn’t me, I don’t care that you broke our vows, but why her, Hades? Why her? Why did it have to be the one mortal I -”

Persephone shut her mouth, panic filling her lungs like wasps. She hadn’t meant to give herself away. And she had certainly given herself away. Hades was no idiot, at least not when she wanted him to be.

Sure enough, Hades was clearly mulling over her words in the sudden silence, filling in the blank at the end of her sentence. “There’s more you’re angry about than my cheating,” he said, a crease forming between his brows as he leaned forward in his chair, as if to get a better look at her. “Isn’t there?”

“I think I have plenty to be angry about without you trying to pick apart my motivations,” Persephone managed to say. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t know.

“Persephone, did you - did you have feelings for that woman?” Hades asked, his gaze fixed on her like she was a business plan he was picking apart just for the fun of it.

It was like she’d swallowed an ice cube. “Why would I -”

“It’s not an accusation,” Hades said, holding up his hands. “I’m only trying to understand. I know you’ve...been interested in women before, and men, and others.”

Persephone’s entire body was trembling. “What does it matter?” she said weakly, beginning to feel dizzy as she tried to keep her expression blank. Once, the feeling of the world spinning had been accompanied by the feeling of her lover’s hands on her bare skin, his kiss on her neck, her name on his tongue. Later that feeling had come with flashes of euphoria and despair as she tried to drink her fears into nonexistence. Now, sober and very obviously lacking her husband’s reverent touch, she felt as unmoored as a lily plucked up at the roots.

She had, in fact, liked Eurydice a lot, been captivated by the girl’s intensity and unexpected softness, by the way she held herself like she was her own armor, only to dance in Hermes’ bar like she hadn’t a thing to lose. Yes, Persephone had felt things for Eurydice. The difference was that she had kept her hands to herself, respecting Eurydice and the boy she had chosen, not to mention Persephone’s own husband. She’d appreciated Eurydice’s wit and cleverness, enjoyed her company in the most benign manner she could, and left it at that. Hades, meanwhile, did...what he had done.

The thought of her husband’s transgression brought a fresh wave of fury and with it, a bitter, stinging pain. This was what he always did. Took her words, twisted them around, used them as a blunt instrument to crush her with. Made her feel guilty for things she hadn’t even done. “Congratulations,” she hissed. “You’ve figured it out. Doesn’t change things. Doesn’t make this my fault.”

“That’s not what -”

“You just can’t stand being held accountable, so you have to turn this on me, but I’m not the one who - who -”

Her voice cracked, and with it her fragmented heart seemed to give way completely, collapsing in on itself, leaving a void of nothingness in her chest where ruby-red carnations had once bloomed. Empty, Persephone turned and fled the office, running back down the stairs and down the hall, out into the street, and towards...what? There was nowhere in this hellhole that was truly away from Hades; the entire damn town was named after him for a reason. Even as she stumbled through narrow alleys, past factories and warehouses, away from the shades who called after her in concern, Persephone knew that there was no escaping her husband’s grasp.

She kept running. When she tripped and scraped her hands and knees, tearing her tights as easily as Hades had broken their vows, she got up and continued, aware of nothing but the ache that had settled into her bones, a real, physical ache. Her eyes burned; she tasted salt and realized that her eyes must have been irritated by the air rushing into them, for why else would she be crying?

At some point when she had caught her breath and some modicum of consciousness had returned to her, she realized she was wrapped in softness. There was something silky against her cheek, and stillness all around her - it was almost peaceful. Her bed. No, not her bed.  _ Their  _ bed, in the room they had shared for so many years before Persephone, in a fit of self-righteousness, relocated to a room on the far side of the house. Now in her distraught state she had run to the place that had once made her feel so safe, so loved, so wanted, not even bothering to kick off her shoes before climbing onto the mattress and tugging the blankets and sheets around her haphazardly, until she was like a bird in a nest - no. Thinking about birds brought a fresh wave of tears, which she made no effort to quell or quiet - who cared, really, if some passing shade heard the Dread Queen’s wails as she wept for all she had lost and all that had been taken from her? Certainly she didn’t care. 

Just as she felt she had expelled every last drop of water from her body, she heard footsteps outside the door, deceptively light. Hades walked in, studying her like she was a stranger.

“Been lookin’ for ya,” he said eventually.

Persephone thought vaguely that she must look exceedingly pitiful - her hair mussed, her eyes red, her form buried under blankets and numbness. But she couldn’t even muster a response, much less sit up and try to reclaim some remnant of dignity, so she only stared at him hollowly, wishing desperately for him to go away so she could stumble out to the speakeasy and drown herself in liquor.

Hades walked towards her. In these surroundings - this sparsely decorated bedroom where they had made some of their most precious memories - he seemed to have been reduced somehow, stripped of his pride and his confidence. “Persephone,” he said, coming to a stop once he was a few feet away. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

There seemed to be some kind of delay - his lips moved, but she didn’t understand the words, her mind too foggy to interpret the sounds he had made. When at last she figured it out, she replied, “...What?”

“Eurydice and I made a business agreement,” Hades said, speaking quickly, as though he expected to be cut off. He probably did expect to be cut off. Persephone should have felt guilty for this.

“Nothing indecent happened. I only wanted you to think there was - something more - because I didn’t know how else to get your attention. I was desperate.” He hesitated, then said, “It was wrong of me to mislead you in such a way, but I promise, nothing happened beyond normal business dealings. I offered her a contract, she signed, and that was that. She was in my office today for a routine interview. I’ve been conducting them with all the shades to see if they have ideas for the future of this town. I’m sorry I didn’t explain myself sooner and I’m sorry I did it in the first place. If - if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I swear, I won’t hurt you like that again.”

Persephone forced herself to speak. “I don’t believe you.” Her voice sounded raspy and harsh even to her own ears.

“It’s the truth.”

Something in his tone rang true. But Persephone refused to be hopeful. She refused to be trusting. She refused to let him off easy like she had so many times for so many different wrongs.  _ If you can find it in your heart to forgive me _ , he had said. But he was too late. She didn’t have any heart left. “So not her. Who, then?”

“What?” Hades said, sounding for the first time as though she’d caught him completely off guard. It was a rare thing, surprising the King of the Underworld, and Persephone knew she had to make use of the upper hand while she had it.

“It’s been years, Hades, for you and me. You expect me to believe you - that you haven’t - with all the people coming through here all the time -”

“Not once.”

“So you’ve never been tempted?” Persephone said, letting the disbelief show on her face as she finally looked him in the eyes. It wasn’t a fair question. Easy enough to hold yourself back with a little willpower, much harder to avoid feeling all together. She shouldn’t hold him to a standard that she herself couldn’t claim to meet (unbidden, memories of the songbird rose to the forefront of her mind - the way she smiled so carefully, the way she laughed so freely. Persephone shoved them down).

But Hades simply said, “No. Well, not by anyone but you,” he amended. “S’pose I’m a little different than most, don’t get like that over just anyone. Did you really think -”

“Yes, I really thought,” Persephone snapped, closing her eyes as she tried to calm down. “You’re not all that easy to read, you know.” Oh, how she wished to be drunk right now.  _ Damn  _ him and his way of making her feel stupid.

She heard him move. When she opened her eyes again, Hades was kneeling on the floor next to the bed, only a foot or so from where her head rested on the pillow. Persephone was reminded powerfully of the day so long ago when he came to her in the world up above and begged her to have him, to let him hold her like she was the only one that would ever matter -

Hades’ eyes were bright like she hadn’t seen in so long, the sudden vulnerability as jarring as anything else that had happened of late. “Persephone, you’re the one I married. You’re the one I loved - still love. But…”

Here it was, the moment he said something that would end her, rend her already broken spirit into something that could never be healed, not by the gentlest of caresses or tenderest of kisses. But Hades only mumbled, “If you don’t love me back - if you’d rather pursue Eurydice, or someone else - I won’t stop you.”

It occurred to her that it was tearing him apart to say this, that the idea of letting her go was so foreign that he could hardly stand it - in fact, she could see him scanning her face fearfully as he tried to guess what her response would be, looking rather like a man under a guillotine. Something deep in Persephone’s gut, something she had thought drowned in alcohol and apathy a long time ago, seemed to bloom. “I…”

Persephone had heard that when mortals died, they sometimes saw their life flash before their eyes, all their most treasured memories replaying in one final celebration of being. In this instant she understood what that must be like - to know that you had reached the end of something, to know that things would not go back.

_ Every moment a funeral, _ she thought for the second time that night, remembering hands, remembering whispers, remembering an abandoned game of dominoes, remembering flowers and late-night walks and promises, so many promises made only to be broken like an autumn pomegranate, forgotten in the dirt.

The rush of memories stopped and it was just them, now, her curled up in their bed, him kneeling in front of her with tears in his eyes and guilt written across his features. How long had it been since he showed any sort of fragility? Any kind of doubt? How long had this worry been eating at him?

“Hades,” she said. She reached out to touch his hand, which was resting on the edge of the bed. Hades immediately moved back. 

Shame filled Persephone suddenly. Hades had treated her badly, yes, but she had treated him badly too, with her oft-professed disgust for him and her fits of drunken rage. What a pair they were - young no longer, innocent no longer. “I don’t want to leave you.” 

Strange, but there it was. The truth. She didn’t want to leave him. What she really wanted was for things to go back to the way they were before - carefree and light - but in this moment, when all was said and done, she would settle for the next best thing, and that was hope. Hope for the future, hope she could not block out because Persephone had never been good at walling things up, not for long anyway. They had reached the end of something, something that had started kind and turned vicious. They were beginning something new now. Persephone resolved that it would be something better.

The relief in Hades’ eyes was instant and so, so sweet. “May I -” he said.

“Will you -” she said, at the same time.

She let out a nervous laugh and saw his lips twitch upwards for just a second, the break in the tension bringing pure relief. Hades stood and rounded the bed. After a moment Persephone felt the mattress dip as he lay down next to her. Finding herself curious, she rolled over and looked at her husband, really looked at him for the first time in a long time. His hair was white, which wasn’t new, and the lines on his face seemed to have deepened. He looked nothing like the young man she had fallen in love with. Then again, she was nothing like the girl he had fallen in love with. Just another reminder that even gods become weary.

“Hades…” she whispered.

He looked towards her.

“Will you come closer?”

Something flickered in his eyes, though his movements remained as controlled as ever as he inched towards her. Persephone did the same, until there was only a narrow space between them. Hades took her hand and frowned. “You’re bleeding.”

She noticed with surprise that there was, in fact, a stinging pain in her palms, beads of golden ichor dotting the grazed skin. “I fell.”

Hades said nothing, only pressing a soft kiss to the injury before clasping her hand gently between both of his. What once had felt like a trap now seemed tender, intimate, and Persephone marveled at how pleasant it was.

She shouldn’t let him be near her. She should take his offered freedom and rid herself of this place, this man, this life spent longing for one thing or the other. But she let Hades come even closer, until their shoulders touched and the side of his jaw was against her cheekbone.

“I never stopped loving you,” he murmured.

“I did,” she said. “Well, I thought I did.”

There was an aching in her chest and a new, fresh something in her veins, a gentle melody in her ears. She wasn’t a fool; she knew that the upcoming years and perhaps decades would be full of tests and trials, that pain such as theirs wouldn’t go away overnight. But it was a start, this quiet, shared contemplation. “I do,” she whispered.

She saw Hades relax, and settled herself more comfortably against him, resting a hand on his chest and feeling it rise and fall. Soon, they would both need their space. Persephone knew she should be feeling more unhappy with him than she did, but by some inexplicable paradox the only one she wanted comfort from was the very same man who’d caused her woes. Right now she craved this closeness like nothing else. Right now a broken trust and a shattered heart were on the first step towards healing, right now the corners of her husband’s eyes were crinkling as he smiled, right now she felt as though a thousand pounds of stone had been lifted from her chest. Right now things weren’t bad or good but simply new, and right now, Persephone decided, that that was enough.


End file.
